


That Would Be Enough

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Hate Sex, M/M, PWP, Pining, Season 2 spoilers, Vaginal Fingering, episode-related, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Starlight saved Hughie's life. Butcher feels inclined to thank her for it.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell (implied), Billy Butcher/Starlight | Annie January, Starlight | Annie January/Hughie Campbell (implied)
Kudos: 12





	That Would Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> han and i have been very into the idea of annie and butcher hate-fucking tangential to their mutual love of hughie, so this happened! set post s2e6, let's pretend hughie is laid up in mallory's guest room before annie leaves to meet her mom. 
> 
> big thanks to han for beta'ing.
> 
> enjoy!

Hughie’s passed out in one of the beds in Mallory’s guest bedroom. Starlight is sitting on the other bed, while Butcher is in the stiff chair in the corner. MM and Mallory are elsewhere in the house, grilling Lamplighter while waiting for Neuman to arrive. If Butcher strains his ears, he can faintly hear their voices, but otherwise the house is silent. The bedroom is silent, save for Hughie’s rhythmic breathing.

Butcher glances at Hughie and lets the relief wash over him again. He knows just how close he came to losing Hughie, but he pushes the thought away. What matters now is that he _didn’t_ lose him.

With that, his gaze slides over to Starlight. He knows she’s the reason Hughie made it. If she hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to cauterize the wound, Hughie would never have made it to a hospital. Butcher grits his teeth against the thought, and then grits them harder against the idea of thanking Starlight. She’s probably expecting it, prim and proper as she is.

She looks at him with a glare that’s ice cold. Maybe she’s not expecting a thank you; maybe she already knows Butcher better than that.

Butcher doesn’t look away and neither does Starlight. The room grows tense around them, so thick you could choke on it. Butcher swallows reflexively and Starlight shifts on the bed.

“Thank you,” Butcher mumbles. He finally breaks the staring contest to look at Hughie again. His heart thuds, obnoxious and heavy, looking at the lad’s relaxed face. “He’d be dead without you.”

Starlight narrows her eyes like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. Butcher doesn’t say anything else, and eventually Starlight fills the silence instead. “You’re serious.”

Butcher scowls. “Of course I’m fucking serious. If it had just been me an’ him dealing with this shit, he would’ve died on the way to the bloody hospital.” He hates to admit it. He hates to acknowledge that Hughie is another person Butcher failed to keep safe, just like Becca, just like Raynor, just like Mallory’s family. “So thanks,” he bites out. He wants to lash out, wants to snipe at her even though, in this moment, she hardly deserves it.

Starlight looks less angry, more surprised. “Oh.”

Butcher rolls his eyes. “What, you want me to get on my knees and kiss your fucking feet or something?” He looks to her just in time to watch a fleeting blush cross her cheeks. She squirms on the bed again. Butcher narrows his eyes. In his pants, his cock gives an interested throb. “Is that it, then?” he asks. “Want to put me in my place?”

Her cheeks redden. “No, god, that’s disgusting.” She looks away. Not at Hughie, but at the wall to her right. “I don’t want you to do anything.”

Except her voice trembles just slightly and she squirms again, in that way women do when they’re wet. Butcher lets out a noisy exhale. It’s not that he likes Starlight, can barely fucking stand her; she’s no Homelander, certainly isn’t anything like Stormfront, but she’s still a Supe and still a cunt.

But she’s the cunt that saved Hughie’s life. She’s probably the love of Hughie’s life, too. Butcher knows why the first thing spurs him to his feet, but he doesn’t want to examine why the second thing is what propels him across the room. Starlight faces him again with something like defiance on her face.

“Butcher,” she says. Her eyes dart to Hughie, then to the door.

Wordlessly, Butcher detours to the bedroom door and turns the lock with a soft _click_. As for Hughie… “Lad’s out like a fucking light. And if he does wake up, it’ll be a nice show for him.”

It’s not like Butcher is unaware of Hughie’s feelings for him. He’s about as subtle as a fucking stick of dynamite, and even the way he shouts at Butcher is done with adoration and _love_. Butcher hasn’t addressed it because it doesn’t matter; he’s trying to save Becca, and Hughie’s got Starlight. It’s all moot, really. More trouble than it’s worth.

But, well. As Butcher gets closer to Starlight and she doesn’t move away or tell him to fuck off, Butcher feels like getting into a bit of trouble.

“Well?” He asks. “What do you say?”

Starlight’s got a mixture of uncertainty and disdain on her face, but her blush is still present and her chest is rising and falling too fast to be casual. She looks Butcher up and down, then starts to bite her bottom lip but thinks better of it. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Butcher says easily. “Just me showing some gratitude.” He’s standing beside the bed now. He could reach out and tug Starlight to the edge of the bed, drag her pants off and shove his face between her pale thighs. He doesn’t, though. He waits.

Starlight scoots forward on the bed until her legs dangle over the edge, socked feet hitting the carpeted floors softly. She leans back and reaches for the waistband of her pants, pushing them down until she can slip them off her ankles. She leaves her panties on, cute simple things in a pale blue.

Slowly, as though he might spook her, Butcher sinks to his knees. He doesn’t even bother shrugging out of his jacket. He presses his hands against her knees and pushes her legs further apart. As he leans in, he can smell her, the scent of sweat and arousal. She showered once they arrived at Mallory’s but she still smells like stress and hospital underneath how wet she is. Butcher licks his lips and relishes the way her thighs quiver in response.

He shoulders his way between her thighs and cups his hands on the outside of her thighs. He doesn’t bother pulling off her panties quite yet, isn’t even sure she’d let him. Instead he leans in and licks across the front of her panties. Her skin is warm through the cotton and when the tip of his tongue brushes her clit she jolts like he shocked her. He focuses his attention on her clit, teasing his tongue over the hot nub over and over and letting the friction of the cotton drive her mad.

She holds out longer than he expects, but eventually she puts a hand in his hair and grips _tight_. The rough touch sends sparks of arousal burning down Butcher’s spine and his cock, previously only half-hard, is pressed up against the zipper of his pants. He aches to relieve himself, but this is about Starlight.

“Butcher,” she breathes, and Butcher can see the appeal, can see why Hughie is so enamored with her. Her voice, breathless and pitchy, is lovely. Nothing about her reaction is forced or played up. “Come on,” she demands, although she doesn’t sound as stern as she probably intends.

“Can I take these off, then?” He asks as he brings a finger to the waistband of her panties. He tugs the elastic back and lets it snap against her skin.

She rolls her eyes at him and wordlessly lifts her hips. Just as silently, he drags the panties down her smooth, pale thighs and down until they hang off one ankle. Butcher takes a moment to admire her cunt, the flush of her lips and the neat trimming of her golden blonde pubes. Her pussy looks exactly as he expected, and he ignores the thought of it being endearing and leans in instead.

She inhales sharply when he presses the flat of his tongue against her clit. He can smell her even more strongly now without the barrier between them and it makes his mouth water. He drags his tongue over her clit insistently and she ruts her hips forward, grinding against his tongue. Butcher brings his hands back to her thighs and grips tight, would bruise if she wasn’t a Supe.

“Butcher,” she gasps, the rhythm of her hips stuttering. Her hand flexes in Butcher’s hair and tugs him back slightly. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Butcher can admit that he at least admires her audacity. She’s the one gasping for breath, legs trembling on either side of Butcher’s head, and yet she’s still got a mouth on her. He tightens his hold on her hips and then hikes one of her legs over his shoulders. She yelps, a brief and bitten-off sound; she falls back on one hand and shudders. She’s even more exposed to Butcher now, and he can see her slick clinging to the lips of her pussy. When she tenses involuntarily, he can see it.

Butcher leans in and slips his tongue between her lips to finally taste her. She’s sweet, because of course she fucking is, and Butcher’s annoyed by how much it turns him on. There’s the undercurrent of salt but more than anything she tastes sweet, not like a fruit or a candy but good all the same. He presses in closer, eager for more despite the way he hates her, and she rewards him with a low moan.

Butcher presses his tongue inside her. He can’t reach far but it’s enough to get a shriek from her, something pitchy that warbles in her throat. He wants to press her down against the bed and lick into her as deep as he can manage, her legs wrapped around his head until it feels like she might crush him. He wants to get two fingers inside her and watch her fuck back onto them, desperate for _him_.

“Oh, fuck, god,” Starlight moans. She’s holding back, and Butcher knows why but he doesn’t want her to. He wants her to fall apart, forget about other people for a second—forget about Hughie for a second, even, so that he’s all Butcher’s even for a single moment. Butcher knows his tongue inside her won’t get them there, so he pulls back. She lets out a whine, anguished. “You fucking asshole,” she says before kneeing him upside the head.

“Calm down,” Butcher mutters. “Lean back.”

She hesitates for a second, meeting his gaze and searching for something, before leaning back until she’s propped up on an elbow. Butcher sits up straighter and pushes one of Starlight’s legs up to give him more room. He looks at her expectantly until she says, “I can hold it there, it’s not difficult,” with a sneer.

“There’s a good lass,” Butcher says and oh, he definitely notes her sharp little inhale at that. He doesn’t dwell on it, though. Instead he brings his free hand to her cunt and runs a single finger along the seam of her lips. He gathers her slick on his fingertip before pressing inside, a hot and wet pull.

Starlight trembles around him. His finger isn’t big but he thinks maybe she’s just sensitive, especially receptive and he likes that. He fucks her with one finger until she’s doing most of the work, thrusting against him in a wordless plea for more. He pulls out only briefly before returning with two fingers and that, finally, earns him a throaty moan.

“Fuck!” She half-shouts, throwing her head back.

Butcher takes that opportunity to lean in and run his tongue over her clit again at the same moment he curls his fingers inside her. Her whole body jumps and her leg drops until she can plant her foot on the bed. It still leaves Butcher room to fingerfuck her hard and fast and he likes the way he can feel her legs shake. He licks at her clit with a single-minded focus—nothing too long, nothing too short, none of that alphabet shit. He teases the very tip of her clit until she’s writhing and making these short, hiccupping noises.

“Oh god, oh god,” she gasps, “fuck, Butcher, _fuck_.”

Butcher lets out a moan of his own against her clit and she yanks so hard at his hair that he moans again. He drools against her clit as he curls his fingers again and again. They’re a machine working in perfect tandem: she tugs at his hair, he moans, she tugs again; he curls his fingers and she thrusts against him and he thrusts that much deeper. Butcher’s ready to go mad with how hard he is, but he wants to feel her come, wants to tip her over the edge before anything else.

She starts to tremble harder and her hips are working in quick, tight circles against his tongue and fingers. When he glances up, he spares a moment to mourn her body being covered up by a hoodie. When he looks at her face, though, he doesn’t care as much. Her eyes are shining yellow, and the lamp on the bedside table is starting to flicker. Her mouth is flushed red and open in a sweet ‘o’. Her cheeks are ruddy, and there’s still that defiance in her expression, like she hates that it’s Butcher making her come even though she clearly loves it, too.

He leans back just slightly and ignores her frustrated whine. “Come on,” he murmurs, letting his breath ghost over her clit, “come for me, like a good girl.”

He seals his lips over her clit and sucks at the same time he twists his fingers inside her, right over that precious little spot that makes her whole body go tense. She finally, _finally_ lets out a wail. The leg thrown over Butcher’s shoulder tenses and she inadvertently tugs Butcher closer; she does the same with her hand in his hair, keeping him pressed flush to her clit as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. She ruts against him, uses him as she chases her pleasure, and all he can do is go along for the ride and watch.

And oh, what a ride it is. Her hair is falling out of its already haphazard ponytail and her eyes are glowing bright. She’s gasping and panting and Butcher wants, suddenly, desperately, to see what she looks like when Hughie fucks her. Does she look so debauched, so flushed? Or does he fuck her gently, sweetly, like it’s prom night at the Holiday Inn, like it’s their wedding night and she’s the blushing bride?

Butcher wants to know and nearly comes at the thought of the two of them together.

He doesn’t pull away until Starlight falls back against the bed, totally lax. Her hand slips from his hair as he goes and her leg falls from his shoulder. Butcher wipes her slick off his chin and admires the way his beard has burned the inside of her thighs bright red. She’ll be feeling that, and she’ll think of him. Butcher almost wishes she and Hughie could fuck around, so that Hughie could see Butcher’s handiwork.

“Shit,” Starlight breathes out. She sits up slowly. Butcher shuffles away from the bed, still on his knees. He watches as she pulls her underwear back on, and he reaches out to grab her pants and passes them to her. “Thanks,” she mutters as she pulls those on too. After she’s dressed, the room is silent once more. Starlight swallows and Butcher is doing his best not to draw attention to the erection pressing insistently at his zipper.

There’s a groan from the spare bed and Butcher looks over just as quick as Starlight. Hughie’s turning his head, forehead scrunched as he tries to get his wits about him. His eyes are still shut as Butcher scrambles to his feet and Starlight stumbles off the bed. They’re both at Hughie’s side in seconds, and it’s not long after that he opens his eyes.

“Oh,” Hughie breathes. He sounds relieved. “We’re okay.”

“Yeah, lad, we’re okay,” Butcher replies. “You’re okay.” He doesn’t bristle with jealousy when Starlight reaches out to brush a hand through Hughie’s hair.

“We’re okay,” Starlight echoes before glancing at Butcher. There’s something different in her gaze—she still doesn’t like him, and that suits him just fine. It’s not the begrudging sort of respect like the look Butcher shot her in the car. It’s something like fondness. Like understanding. That’s what makes Butcher bristle.

The dopey grin on Hughie’s face helps, though what he says next does not. “Butcher, why do you look like you got into a fight with a glass of water and lost? What’s on your face?”

Butcher resolutely does not blush, but he does scowl. “Nothing, fuck. You got this?” He says to Starlight, waving a hand at Hughie.

“I got this,” Starlight says. “You should get cleaned up.” Her gaze drops to the front of his jeans where his cock is still half-hard.

Butcher bares his teeth but she only smiles back at him.

“Go,” she says. “We’ll be right here, waiting.” Hughie nods, even though he definitely looks confused. Lad is smart, but not that smart.

Butcher goes. 


End file.
